You Can Tell Alot
by my black crimson rose
Summary: My mother always told me, "You can tell a lot about a person by their shoes." Back then I thought she was a nut. But now... now I can't help but look down. Seiner


**[You can tell a lot…]**

They weren't warm.

My mother always told me, "You can tell a lot about a person by their shoes." Back then I thought she was a nut. But none-the-less I always caught myself glancing down at their shoes. Even now, at the age of fifteen, you would think I grew out of it… nope. Not I.

It was the dead of winter when I finally looked down, and didn't lose any pride in doing so, when Seifer strolled on by. Combat boots, black, navy blue lining, worn, steel toed.

Combat boots: military boots, designed to be worn by soldiers during combat.

Why is this important? Well, just like my nutty Mum would always say, "you can tell a lot about a person by their shoes," and just that small little glimpse could be used to describe the senior. Combat boots in this day in age was mostly seen as a fashion item… damn that sounded so gay.

Anyways, the point is that if you didn't know the guy, you might just think that he wore them because he thought it made him look badass—which is kinda true. But when you see the white trench coat, the scar, slicked back blonde hair… what are your first thoughts?

"What where your first thoughts of Seifer?" I voiced suddenly, startling my friends who joked about senseless things. Those boots, I was probably looking far too into this matter but I grew up with that saying, and I was able to figure out Squall Leonhart by looking at his shoes, the only logical challenge was to try Seifer Almasy.

"A jackass," Roxas bit out a bitter reply.

"Self-centered," Pence replied easily.

"Why?" Olette inquired.

"Just wondering…" I sighed. My eyes still stared at the hall that he had turned down moments ago.

A little thing about Seifer Almasy was that he wanted you to hate him. Everyone got that vibe from him. I've always wondered why. What in this world made him such an angry guy? Anyways, he's a bully. He's smart, as much as everyone thinks otherwise. Unstable; which is funny… blue means stability… get it? No, okay, well I tried.

"Misunderstood," Olette finally replied snapping me from my thoughts. "Now tell me why you suddenly care."

"His shoes," I turned my gaze to her. They knew about my little thing with the shoes.

The girl smiled, "uh huh, and what have you come up with so far Mr. Fortune-teller," she teased, her smile large and nearly blinding due to the brushing of three times a day. My thing was shoes; her thing was brushing her teeth after every meal… I was not one to pick fun at.

"Combat boots; military issued... steel toed; meant for fighting… dark blue lining: blue stands for depth and stability" Roxas bellowed with laughter, see I wasn't the only one who found this funny, "it's symbolic meanings are: trust, loyalty, wisdom, confidence, intelligence, faith, truth… yet dark blue is: knowledge, power, integrity, and seriousness…" I trailed off trying to find meaning in all of this. If anything based off colour… red should be most symbolic for him.

"But doesn't red suit him? Isn't that like… the colour of power, and war… or something like that?" Roxas added. It was almost crazy how well things like that work out between us, one of us would think something and normally the other would blurt it out. That was why we're best buds.

"But that's on his arm, so maybe it's like, he's hiding something with this big front with this confidence, and rage filled mask…" Pence jumped in, gotta love that kid. Always making sense of this mess of thoughts .

The bell decided to ring right after that. We all grinned at each other, a silent meaning of "hold those train of thoughts".

**[…from a person…]**

Now don't get me wrong, the beginning of these train of thoughts may have made you think that I was some quiet mouthed kid who just sat there and takes it. No way, not me. I may have this stupid little saying that I live by, and I may look into people's footwear a little too much for normal male standards… BUT! There's that but in there; I am in no way a freak.

I just like to know about people, okay! Okay… that sounds a little bad doesn't it? Okay, I'm just going to stop with this inner monologue now; I've already done WAY too much thinking! So, speaking of the devil from before…

The senior's fist clenched the front of my favorite shirt; my mouth betrayed me… again. "What the fuck was that?" he snarled, his whole posture lowered to meet my near average height of 5'9". I am so dead.

Don't say anything Hayner. Do not say a word! "What are so fucking scared of, huh?" God damnit! "You think you're so tough, huh! Everyone can see right through it!" I thought I said not to say anything! The tall blonde's lips pulled back in a wrathful smile. I noticed something then… his eyes, not the colour, the emotion. It was hardly there.

Eyes are the gateway to the soul…

If that was true then Seifer Almasy was a dead man.

And that was when a fist met my cheek bone… over and over again. The crowd around us cheered, we're teenagers… we live for violence, some of them winched every time his fist made contact. With an already bruised eye, and a shut other eye, I blindly swung out with a closed fist. A jaw hit. The hand that held me dropped, and I fell to the floor. Shit.

That boot that I was trying to understand so hard made contact with my stomach, oh so painfully. Hands took hold of my gelled back hair, "it's none of your fucking business Chicken-wuss."

**[…by the way they act…]**

He got suspended, and I got to go home. His parents didn't even pick him up…

"This has happened more than once, with the same boy! And you're just going to give him a week suspension? All that's going to is allow him to sit on his ass and do nothing while my son has to deal with… this!" My mom shouted to the principle. "I want to speak to that boy's parents."

"Mom, I started it, it's my fault," I told stepping in. My face was already starting to bruise and swell. My lip was split, left eye solid black, the other one was nearly purple… don't you hate it when you get punched in the nose and both eyes end up getting bruised? I look like a damn raccoon.

"Mrs. Ducaine, please calm down," the principle held her hands out in a calming motion. It wasn't working.

Behind the two women Seifer sauntered by, hands stuffed in the pockets of his white trench coat, only a scarf protects him from the cold winter air. Was he just not affected by the cold like the rest of us, or was winter gear too lame for him… or… I didn't even bother with finishing those train of thoughts.

"Hayner honey," my mother called after me; I left the office in a slight jog. When cold bitter air touched unclothed arms (I was an idiot and forgot my jacket with my mom) I booked it towards the senior.

"Seifer—"he was already turning to the sound of feet thudding against the plowed pavement. I bent over to catch my breath, one moment please; I raised my finger to show that I needed a moment. He actually surprised me by not saying a word, nor making a move. I pulled out a pair of black cheap gloves from my side pant pocket. Okay… have you seen my pants? Do you see how big those pockets are? Yeah, I keep everything in there… hats, gloves, pencils, pens, money, sometimes even my lunch.

I could make a commercial… "Hayner pants; get some." No joke; that would be the slogan.

The senior started at them, "I don't need your p—"

I grin, "they're shitty, and I hate them anyways. I need to get a better pair, I was going to toss them, then I saw that you didn't have any, so whatever. I'm getting a drive home, and you have to freeze your ass off walking home… meh, but whatever," I threw the gloves at him; he caught the thin clothing in a hand.

Silence.

With his free hand he brushed over his nose, "your… face… uh…" that was the closest I would have gotten to an apology, and I couldn't have grinned any larger.

**[…and by the way they speak…]**

I've been home for the past two days, and all I've been hearing about is, "I can't believe that jerk did this to my baby." Really, Mom just needs to calm down.

My world that I thought was so solid and sturdy was starting to rattle and shake. There was something changing in my future, and it all started with those damn boots. Combat boots, black, navy blue lining, worn, steel toed. I'll never be able to forget them.

It was late in the night when I laced my sneakers up, zipped up my jacket and snuck out. Where was I even going? I didn't know for sure. I didn't want to go to the usual spot, there wouldn't be any answers waiting for me there. For some reason my feet brought me to the market that, near midnight, Thursday night. And it wasn't in till I was good a numb that I figured out why.

He looked like shit with that cancer stick in-between his lips. His overall appearance was the same, hair slicked back, white trench, black with navy blue lining worn steel toed Combat boots, scar in the middle of his face, sun kissed skin… but there were large bags under his eyes from sleep deprivation, his posture had a tired edge to it.

"You look like shit," I voiced. The cigarette fell from his lips as his over tired brain tired to function. If I didn't know better I would have thought for the past two days all he's been consuming has a vast unhealthy amount of nicotine… and maybe a few cups of coffee.

"Are you stalking me or something?" he finally replied, his voice thick. It made me have to clear my throat. He shook his head; "I don't have time to deal with this shit… you coming or going?" he turned to the alley.

"Um… coming?" I replied hastily, following him up the stairs along the side of the building. Was this where he lived with his parents? He pushed open the door, throwing his long jacket onto the coat rack. Picture frames, most broken or cracked, others knocked over in rage. A Queen sized mattress lay on the floor, few bed sheets, and a nightstand. A couch, a coffee table, a small little TV on a stand, the small kitchen with two person island… and a door to a bathroom beside the 'bed'.

He was alone.

Poor.

Alone.

And hating every... damn… minute... of it.

"Don't you dare start fucking pitying me," he snarled placing another picture frame face down. There were no frames hanging on the wall… just on surfaces.

"Where are your parents?" I voiced stupidly.

Seifer barked out a laugh, "No clue, they could be dead for all I care. They stuck me in some orphanage when I was three… and three years ago they thought that I would love them when they took me back..." he took a picture frame into his hands. "I have a brother… never fucking knew shit."

Stability… no, he may have been stable last year… but not now. Stress. He's been holding onto all these past ghosts. My fingers take hold of a picture frame with a bunch of 6 year olds. Seifer, Squall, Zell… Selphie, Quitis, Irvine…

They all grew up in the same place?

Seifer threw a look over his shoulder, "Squall and I were the only ones left. We were sent to military school for a few years, we got out the after what you would call middle school." I placed the picture frame down on the coffee table.

I still had my jacket and shoes on, "I should go—"

"Stay."

Its funny how a single word could cause me to freeze, my breathing stopped, my heart missed a beat… I slowly turned. "My parents—"

He chuckled, "you're a teenager, you're supposed to sneak out and stay out all night, it's in the job description."

"You're only supposed to do that with friends and significant others… and you don't really fall under those categories…" I trailed off with a grimace. Why did it even hurt to say that? Normally I say far worse things to him, well, in till I saw those combat boots (black, navy blue lining, worn, steel toed). He remained silent, his fingers wrapping around my wrist.

"Why did you come after me?" he spoke, his voice deep and echoing off the naked walls. It couldn't have been more than a whisper…

"Because…" should I tell him? "You're shoes…" he raised a brow, okay, yes; that sounded so strange. "I grew up with the saying, 'you can tell a lot about a person by the shoes that they wear'… I'm trying to figure you out. Things just don't add up…" I replied; this was so embarrassing.

"What can you tell from my shoes?" his tone held humor, well at least someone wound this situation funny!

I took in a breath, "Combat boots; military issued... steel toed; meant for fighting… dark blue lining: blue stands for depth and stability. Its symbolic meanings are: trust, loyalty, wisdom, confidence, intelligence, faith, truth. But Dark blue stands for: knowledge, power, integrity, and seriousness." All in one breath… I'm getting good. "From what I've noticed about your personality and matching with the colour blue I can dissect that further and figure out what you are from that list. You're loyal, confident, intelligent, and powerful."

This makes me seem like some love struck… girl! Gah! That thought is just… not too bad actually. "You sound like a fruit," his voice cut through my thoughts. His fingers loosened their near bruising pressure, slowly sliding down my arm, fingers grazing before he moved to his bed. His boots, those military issued, steel toed boots with navy blue lining, were kicked from his feet; they made heavy thuds against the couch upon impact.

His large frame collapsed onto the bed, "I'll stay," I spoke. My heart fluttering and jittering at the very thought. Now to save some pride, "I'm not sleeping on the couch." Geez Hayner, that was a real pride booster (I hope you all note that that was sarcasm). Seifer grunted, pulling the comforter over his body. My sneakers were taken off with a bit more care than his combats, my jacket on the other hand was thrown to the couch, it was to be found at a later date.

He lifted the covers for me to join him.

I did.

It was strange how natural it felt to lay like this, on my back with his arm over my chest and face two inches from my cheek.

"Night"

He hummed in reply.

**[…and by the emotions that they share…]**

It was too hot under the covers, and with Seifer's dead weight half on top of me only added to the heat. His fingers twitched, grazing my cheek in his slumber. I moved my right leg first, followed by my right arm. "Don't," he breathed into my ear freezing all movements.

"I need to take a piss," I replied, no really, I have to pee. His aquamarine eyes squinted, "no really, I'll be back in like a minute." He grunted, rolling onto his back and flopped an arm over his eyes. Joints cracked, and bones creaked as I stood. His bed was actually really comfy, considering it was on the ground. I was pleasantly surprised.

I pushed the door relatively closed with my toe before doing my business, because I really don't think it's natural to narrate how I piss in the toilet… yes, Hayner's a big boy and knows how to use the potty. Shaking the tap water from my hands I pulled open the door. He was right where I left him… on his back with his hand over his eyes.

"Have Fuu and Rai been over here, or am I just special?" I inquired curling up in the bed.

"They've been here…" through fingers his eyes shined with the early morning sun. "And you are special, wuss, in the head," he teased, the largest smile that I've seen on him for months was present.

I swung my hand at his chest, causing him to howl with laughter. "So just them? Not any other friends?"

His smile dropped, "I don't have friends. Rai and Fuu are family." Honest and straight to the point. "Friends eventually leave; they can't stick out the hardships that come with friendship. Friendships are never forever. Families on the other hand are, they're there for you, it's their job. They love you through the thick and thin, and don't judge you based off anything. You can be you."

That little series of choppy sentences explained far more than he and I would ever understand. It was the truth. And someone that the world labeled as a menace to society, someone who everyone thought knew nothing of the love from another could come to figure this out shocked and amazed me.

Blue means depth.

I understand why now.

"I don't want friends, and I don't need a blood family. Family is what you make of it. It can be of you and people you call friends, but still if you're willing to do anything to protect them, to keep them safe, and to love them for who they are… I call that true family," the senior told, his aquamarine eyes staring into my brown ones.

The silence returned. Pregnant silence; for once my mouth didn't start spitting out some thoughts that coursed through my brain. "I'm willing to join this family, if you'll allow it."

His smile was faint…

…but it was still a smile.

**[…and by the shoes that they wear.]**

Seifer Almasy was senior at Twilight Town High School, he was born December 22nd, had a biological family that consists of; a Mother, a Father, and a Younger Brother. He did not count them as family. His real family was made up of three other people; Fuujin, Raijin, and me, Hayner.

About those boots on the other hand… I have still yet to figure out the complete story on those… and the man wearing them.

Every day I learn a little bit more…

…about him, and about me.

* * *

><p><strong>M.B.C.R says::<strong> This was writen for CamoBeanie's contest, I was day 13, my prompt is boots. Please review on both this and the one on DA. :)


End file.
